


Jack Daniels and Orange Juice

by Gaylagher



Series: The Consequences of a Bad Idea [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: F/M, M/M, i suck at summaries, i suck at tagging too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-03-26 00:47:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13846536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaylagher/pseuds/Gaylagher
Summary: Ian and Mickey were in a relationship, and things seemed to be all well; but will they be able to overcome the external bullshit thrown their way?





	1. Chapter 1

The alarm on Ian’s phone cut through the silent morning in the Milkovich house like a knife through butter. Mickey’s sleep was robbed from him as he groaned, squeezing eyes shut. “Shut that thing up before I chuck it out the fucking window, Freckles.”

“I’m trying,” the redhead responded, before turning off the alarm, letting go of the older man, sitting up. “Go back to sleep.” He leaned down and kissed Mickey’s head.

“I’m not going to fuckin’ be able to,” Mickey sighed and sat up. “Why do you have to get up so early?”

“I have this thing called a job,” his boyfriend explained, “where sometimes they want me in the morning. Sometimes they want me at night. Depends.” He shrugged before getting up and pulling a pair of sweatpants over his briefs.

“I know what a fucking job is, Gallagher,” Mickey grumbled, “don’t forget to take your meds.”

Ian nodded. “On it.” Mickey watched the redhead leave, grumbled incoherently, before heading to the kitchen.

Mickey had been dating Ian for about four months, and it was a hard to get used to—he had never been in a relationship where he actually genuinely liked the person he was dating. His last relationships were with girls, just to bury his wants for a man inside him. He shoved that craving inside him, locked it in a treasure chest, and threw away the key. And yet somehow it had gotten out, and it looked like Ian Gallagher.

Mickey was walking into uncharted territories and it didn’t matter, because he trusted Ian to have the map and guide him along the way. And man, it felt good to trust someone instead of building walls up and keeping everyone away.

Having trust issues was getting lonely.

Mickey and Ian planned to keep their relationship between each other, but Mandy had caught on a couple weeks into their relationship. When Ian had confirmed her suspicions, she rolled her eyes and muttered, “about fucking time.” Scott, Ian’s roommate, had known a month later.

Mandy walked into the kitchen, balancing her kid on her hip while Gabe rest his head on her shoulder. “Tell your boyfriend to change the damn alarm.”

“Why can’t you tell him yourself?”

“Because I don’t fucking want to, asshead,” she responded, before placing a sleepy Gabe on his high chair.

“It’s the only thing that gets him up in the morning,” the older Milkovich defended, shrugging before pulling open the fridge to grab the carton of orange juice. Ian walked into the kitchen, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

“I’m not changing my alarm, by the way,” the redhead stated stubbornly, before turning on the stove. “Not my fault that Sue makes me get up in the morning and go to work.”

“You find any new apartments for rent?” Mandy questioned and Mickey gnawed on the inside of his cheek. They had been looking for an apartment they can move out of for months. Mandy had been adamant on not letting Terry around her child. She was adamant on giving Gabe the childhood that neither of them received. But for the last couple months, Ian would shake his head, solemnly before promising that he’ll keep looking for apartments. Mandy would then tell the duo that she hadn’t find any available apartments either, and then Ian would suggest that they live with him and Scott if they don’t find a place.

“No,” Ian answered, shaking his head. “It’s been fucking months and I haven’t seen any up for rent. I’ll still keep an eye out, though.”

“I can’t find anything for shit, either,” Mandy sighed.

“If we don’t find anything, you guys can stay with Scott and I,” the redhead suggested, “he doesn’t mind sharing it with you guys.”

“Isn’t it gonna get a bit too crowded there?”

“It’ll just be for a while,” the redhead promised before rubbing his best friend’s arm. “Work. Fuck.” He placed a bagel between his teeth before waving to the Milkoviches, and striding to the door.

“Ay, wait,” Mickey said before pulling the bagel out of the redhead’s mouth. He placed a chaste kiss on Ian’s lips. “I’ll see you tonight?”

Ian smiled and bit his lip. “My place.” He gave Mickey a chaste kiss before pulling open the door and striding out.

Mickey sauntered back to the kitchen, before sitting down. “You know,” Mandy started, “it’d be better if you got a job. Then we can afford a more expensive place.”

“Who’s gonna hire my ass?” Mickey questioned. “I don’t even have a GED.”

“Then get one,” the younger Milkovich stated. “I did, and I passed. If I could pass, then so can you.” She turned around to get Gabe cleaned up after the mess he created while eating, while Mickey mused over what his little sister suggested, gnawing on his cheek.

He couldn’t get a GED. It wasn’t going to compensate for his growing record.

Right?

 

****************

The Alibi offered a warm place to get shitfaced, with bartenders that talk way too much, and with men wasting their time at the bar rather than at home. Mickey had been making more frequent visits to the shitty bar, avoiding gay clubs and the expensive bars in the North side with yuppie motherfuckers. The red walls gave a dull, soft feeling to the room, with the countertop stretching about a quarter of the small bar.

As shitty as it looked, it was a home away from home.

“Hey, handsome,” the new bartender smiled at Mickey. Kev and V had hired a third person to bartend while they took care of the kids. Her name was Lauren or Lisa or some shit starting with an L, Mickey couldn’t remember.

“Hey,” Mickey greeted back, “the usual.”

“Man, you look upset,” she commented as she made the drink Mickey would always get. “You wanna talk about what’s going on?”

“No.” Mickey couldn’t stop thinking about getting a GED. Which was stupid, right? There was no way he could pass one. It’d be a waste of fucking time. He was clever, but not smart academically—he never was. That was why he was held back in so many classes. His brain was wired a different way from the other classmates.

“Well, I’m right over here if you need me,” the girl stated.

“What I need is my fucking drink and to be left the fuck alone,” Mickey spat out. “Can you do that for me?”

The girl’s smiled disappeared. “Sure,” she said before sliding placing Mickey’s drink on the counter. Mickey placed bills on the counter before taking a sip, the alcohol burning his insides and scorching any thought that bothered him. The thoughts needed to be burnt down to crisps anyway.

The small sound of another person sitting down to his left caught his attention as he glanced at the new person. Lip drummed on the sticky countertop. “Laura”—Mickey _knew_ it started with an L—“I’d like a shot of whiskey please. And leave the bottle.”

“What’s up with you?” Mickey questioned.

“Oh, what’s up with me?” Lip responded, “nah, nothing. Oh, wait, except for the fact that my brother got married to your sister.”

“Are you still fucking on that?” Mickey questioned, groaning. “Get the fuck over it.”

“Can’t really get over my ex girlfriend and my brother marrying, Milkovich.”

“Ian definitely didn’t marry her because he had the hots for her, you dumb fuck,” Mickey responded.

“I don’t really give a fuck about the reason,” the older Gallagher spat out, “he married Mandy.”

“I don’t give a fuck if you don’t want to know, Phillip,” Mickey countered.

“Lip.”

“The only reason why Ian got hitched to her, _Phillip,_ was because he didn’t want her to end up like the 90% of moms here. In fucking debt, miserable, and struggling to raise her fucking child by herself. He’s making dough and he’s helping someone out. Something no one else in her family would’ve done because we can’t afford a baby. It’s also something you wouldn’t have done with your unemployed ass.” He took a sip of his beer, anger coiled around him and squeezing any logic out of him.

“At least I graduated high school, you fuck,” Lip argued, “I got a _high school diploma._ I could still get a job if I fucking want to and not resort to breaking the fucking law.”

Mickey grit his teeth. The coil of anger squeezed around him harder. God, what he wouldn’t do to break the smug fucker’s jaw. “Watch your fucking mouth, asshole,” he threatened, before getting out and storming out of the bar, shoving his urge to beat the crap out of Lip through the door. 


	2. Chapter 2

Ian glanced at his phone for the hundredth time that day. His shift going to end in about an hour and Mickey didn’t seem to text him back about when he was coming over. The redhead chewed on his lower lip, biting part of the tender skin off. A million thoughts ran through his head, but not fast enough for Ian to not pay attention to every one of them.

“You okay?” Sue questioned, concern lingering in her voice.

“Yeah,” the redhead said, “yeah I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not,” the older woman responded, “you’ve spaced out, like, five times. And you’ve been checking your phone a million times this whole day.”

“I’m just tired,” Ian lied, smiling at his coworker.

“You’re not tired. I know when you’re tired.”

Ian sighed. “It’s.. stupid.”

“Not if it’s bothering you.”

“My, uh.. boyfriend’s not replying to my texts,” Ian finally admitted. “It’s been hours.”

“Seriously?” she grinned. “Didn’t think you’d be one of them clingy ones.”

“I’m not clingy,” Ian argued, “he gets really distant and closed off sometimes, and it makes me wonder if he’s gonna push me away or some shit.”

“Listen, kid,” Sue started, “he’s probably just wanting some peace and quiet. Or he’s busy or some shit. Him not responding isn’t him pushing you away. Shit, I ignore texts after work because all I wanna do is sleep.” She shrugged. “You’re stressing yourself out for no reason.”

“Yeah..” Ian responded, “I guess.”

He didn’t look at his phone until he had gotten back to his apartment, trying to distract his mind from the phone that seemed to want his undivided attention. Sue was right; maybe Mickey wanted to be alone, or maybe he was busy. He wasn’t the type to be on his phone all the time, and he was shitty at responding to people. It wasn’t like he was contemplating the relationship.

Right?

When Ian had gotten home, he made a beeline to his room and shut the door, taking his uniform off while his phone stared at him, currently perched on the night stand beside the bed. _Fuck it._ Grabbing it, he checked if Mickey texted him back, and was mildly disappointed at the lack of notifications from his boyfriend. Sighing, he slid under the covers of his bed with only his boxer briefs on, and closed his eyes, the weight of sleep pulling him under the state of unconsciousness..

..Only to get interrupted with a pillow thrown at his head only what seemed like a couple seconds later, but when Ian glanced out the window, it was pitch black. “What the fuck?”

“Good, you’re up,” a voice commented, and Ian turned his gaze to the dark-haired man standing next to the bed. “Get up, Sleepyface.”

“When’d you come? _How’d_ you even get in?” the redhead questioned, sitting up slowly.

“Your roommate let me in,” his boyfriend shrugged, “and a couple minutes ago. He said you were sleepin’ when he checked up on you, so I’m here.”

“You’re an asshole,” Ian commented.

“For showing up without telling you first?” Mickey looked perplexed. “Thought you liked that.”

“No, for not fucking texting me back.”

“I wanted to be alone,” the dark-haired man replied.

“You could’ve said that,” Ian argued. He crawled out of bed, his body still groggy from his irregular sleeping schedule and his spontaneous nap. “I wouldn’t have been worrying about your ass.”

“Fine, Clingy,” his boyfriend responded.

“I’m not clingy, okay?” Ian countered. “I’m not fucking saying that you need to respond to me all the fucking time, but if you go hours without even talking to me, it’s gonna fucking freak me the fuck out.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Mickey questioned, eyebrows raised. “I’m shitty at texting back. If I don’t want to reply, I won’t. It’s not like I’m going to stop replying to you at once, so you can fucking calm down.” He sniffed, nudging his nose with his knuckle; a sign that he was annoyed. “If you’re here to argue, then I’m just gonna go home. I’ve already had a shitty day as it is.”

The redhead sighed. This wasn’t how he wanted the evening to go. “No, I’m sorry,” he started, “I don’t want you to go.” He stepped closer to the dark-haired man and slotted their lips together, his shitty mood melting into a body of water around his ankles, lapping at his feet.

The kiss had no tongue, but it was passionate nonetheless. Ian learned quickly that the kisses that didn’t lead to sex sent as much electricity—if not, more—as the ones that were all about want and need that clouded both their minds. The small _smack_ of their lips parting echoed the room as Ian stepped away from his boyfriend.

“Do you need to always have to be stripped down to your underwear, Gallagher?” Mickey questioned.

“Mhm,” Ian replied, “I suggest you do it too. Gives you a chance to show off those really nice legs.”

Mickey grinned. “You’re a fucking dick.”

“Oh, so you’re rubbing off of me?” Ian teased, grabbing a clean shirt and pants, slipping in them.

“About time, man.” His smile slowly disappeared as he opened his mouth, hesitating slightly to continue to speak. “Mandy talked to me about getting a job, and a GED.”

“And?” Ian urged the dark-haired man to continue. He liked where this was going.

“It’s fucking stupid, right?” Mickey questioned, “I barely passed my freshman classes back when I was _in_ school. It’d be a waste of my time.”

“I think you should give it a shot,” Ian answered honestly, “even if you fail, which I highly doubt you will, you at least tried to get a fucking GED. Plus, we’ll get some extra money. It doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Say if I _did_ pass,” his boyfriend started, “who’d even fucking hire me? I’d be paid the minimum wage at McDonald’s or some customer service shit. And even that’s highly unlikely.”

“Just give it a shot, man,” Ian responded, “see what fucking happens. Get a fucking legal job for once. That won’t hurt. Would it?”

Mickey gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Whatever, man. I got time for that.” He turned on his heels, and Ian watched him take stride after stride out of the messy room, leaving the redhead to fix his shirt.

It was hard to get Mickey to do something—he was stubborn as hell. It was like pushing a car that won’t work. It might seem like an impossible task, to push something that is ten times your weight, but with enough force it’ll start to move. It’ll move slowly, but it’ll move. Ian was ready to exert whatever force it takes to get the car moving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this was so short. i have been going through a rough couple of days, and that resulted in me not being able to concentrate in my writing, which snowballed into writer's block.
> 
> i will update again when my writers block goes away. or when life gets less fucked up, whichever comes first.
> 
> \- Gaylagher


	3. Chapter 3

Ian’s long fingers connected the dots with the freckles on Mickey’s face, both of them laying in Ian’s soft bed. Every soft touch from the redhead’s sent a surge of electricity through Mickey’s skin and shut the negative thoughts out, for a couple moments. A year ago, Mickey wouldn’t have even _thought_ of the younger man touching him like he was now, but that was a year ago, and Mickey wasn’t in love with Ian back then. Mickey closed his eyes, letting his body enjoy the electrical touches.

“Are you gonna fall asleep on me now?” his boyfriend questioned.

“Mmm, I just might.”

“I’m gonna have to put up with your god awful snoring, then.”

Mickey’s eyes shot open. “I do not fucking snore.”

“You do,” Ian argued. “You also sleep talk.”

“Now you’re just pulling stuff out of your ass,” the dark-haired man scoffed.

“I’m not, asshole,” Ian responded. “I’ve heard you say stuff as well.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of stuff?”

“How you have the world’s best boyfriend,” Ian joked, “and how he has the bestest dick you’ve ever had. And how he sucks the soul out of you through your dick, that kind of shit.”

“If you’re gonna make shit up, make it believable,” Mickey grinned.

“Are you saying that the world’s best boyfriend is lying?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Mickey answered, receiving a middle finger from the younger man. “Mature, Gallagher.”

“I know,” Ian smiled his lopsided smile. Mickey had noticed how his face is asymmetrical, how his smile is different, and how dorky he could look—and he still managed to make Mickey’s heart climb up his throat and swing on his tonsils, ready to fly out. “Ay, listen, I got an apartment.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.” the redhead’s smile grew bigger. “It’s a block from here and the place is great. It’s in your price range, you’ll be able to move in about 3 weeks later. The only downside is that my name is on this apartment’s lease, and I have to wait until the end of this month, but that’s only for, like, a week, and then I can move in with you guys.”

“That’s fucking great,” Mickey grinned.

“I know,” Ian answered, and pulled him up to a sitting position. “I’m gonna get a drink. You thirsty?”

“I want beer.”

The redhead laughed. “Of course you do.” He pushed himself off the bed. “I’ll be back in a few.” Mickey sat up and swung his legs to the edge.

“Hey,” Mickey called after his boyfriend. Ian turned to him.

“What’s up?”

“Thanks,” Mickey answered, “for helping us and shit.”

Ian smiled at him, his expression softening and staring at the older man like Mickey had the sun shooting out of his ass. “Anytime.”

“C’mere,” Mickey mumbled, waving his boyfriend over. Ian obliged, getting the hint, walking over to Mickey, and kneeling in between the older man’s knees, and pressed his lips to Mickey’s. Time slipped by as they kissed, like water between the cracks of fingers in cupped hands—and before Mickey wanted to break off the kiss, Scott’s voice did it for them.

“Sorry, should’ve knocked,” Scott apologized, grabbing the attention of both men. Mickey sniffed and brushed his nose with his knuckle.

“That’s alright,” Ian responded, “what’s up?”

“Someone came looking for you,” Scott answered. Mickey turned his face to look at his boyfriend.

“Were you expecting anyone?”

“Not really, no,” Ian shrugged and padded out of the room, Mickey and Scott following suit. Near the door was a petite redhead girl; a girl who was pale with golden flecks all over her face, and a baby in her arms that looked identical to her. “Debs?”

“Ian, hey,” she smiled.

“Hey,” Ian greeted back. “How’d you get my address?”

Debbie shrugged. “I gave Mandy some of Liam’s old clothes and found out you moved, so I asked her where you live now.” Mickey’s eyes left the younger Gallagher and travelled to Ian, whose eyes were lit with contentment. This was the first ever interaction with another Gallagher in about ten months.

The Gallaghers were closer than the Milkoviches will ever be. They had actual love for one another while Mickey’s family cared for one another out of moral obligation. The love was fake and forced to exist. And Mickey doubted Ian wanted two other people just standing around them, watching them talk.

Mickey cleared his throat. “I’m gonna go get a drink.” He jerked his thumb to the doorway. “I’ll see you when I’m fucking shitfaced, Freckles.” He managed to look half presentable—which was _more_ than enough, since he was going to the Alibi—and slipped on shoes.

“Bye, Mick,” his boyfriend called after him. The news of finally moving out of the shithole slowly sunk in his conscious like teeth. Except that it didn’t hurt the way a bite does; it felt good, to not be worrying about facing an abusive and alcohol-fueled man.

Mickey could finally relax.

The stench of sweat mingling with alcohol sat in the air like a heavy, damp cloth. Mickey was used to the smell by now, grounding his cigarette on the floor with his shoe, before planting his ass on the stool right in front of the counter. “Where’s the other girl?” he asked V, who was balancing a kid on her hip while pouring drinks.

“She quit,” V answered, looking up at Mickey. “Said she didn’t really like this place and the pay wasn’t good.”

“Stuck up,” Tommy scoffed.

“I wouldn’t want to be catering to your drunk ass without getting paid a shit ton of money either,” the dark-haired man quipped before turning to V, asking for a drink.

“Anyways,” V started, “we’re in need of someone else to cover. We can’t just take care of Amy and Gemma while being in a bar. Kev already is working two jobs, here and a diner up in Northside, which leaves him busy all day, and I’m stuck with the kids. We want to hire someone, but no one wants to work here anyways, so we’re stuck with traumatizing our kids in the future.” She raised a finger at Kermit and Tommy. “You will be paying for their psychiatrist visits and their medication.”

Mickey’s ears perked up at V expressing wanting to hire someone else, and blocked everything else. All the other words sounded muffled, as if his head was underwater. “Why can’t you just hire someone from here?”

“Don’t you need to take bartending classes or some shit to actually _be_ one?” Kermit questioned.

“Like Kev and V are qualified to bartend,” the dark-haired man scoffed.

“Why, are you going to apply for the job?” V questioned, smirking.

“I’m currently unemployed and with the fucking pigs circling this place trying to sniff out any criminals, so bartending is the only choice I have right now. I know about alcohol anyways, I’ve been mixing that shit ever since I was, like, eight. And we don’t need that customer service bullshit, so why not?” Mickey shrugged. It sounded ridiculous, but he was tired of being a freeloader, and he didn’t want to risk going to jail.

He wanted to pave his own path with his own equipment.

“That sounds fucking crazy,” V commented.

“I’m the only person who wants to work here anyways,” the dark-haired man pointed out. “You can struggle to find someone while bringing your kids in a bar full of drunk and probably high people to make ends meet, or you can focus on someone taking over while you stay home with Amy and Gemma. Your choice.”

V pursed her lips. “Bring your resume.” She walked away, the dark-haired man watching her strides, eyebrows drawn together.

“The fu—a resume? Why the fuck do _I_ need to waste my time filling out a resume when I know I got the fucking job?” V didn’t answer, her back to Mickey. Mickey shook his head, the buzzing of his phone interrupting his annoyance momentarily, only to be filled with nervousness as his eyes read Mandy's text appearing on his phone over and over again until it was etched into his brain.

_Parole hearing came. Terry’s coming back home in two weeks._


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re gonna be okay?” Ian questioned as he watched his boyfriend cram his clothes into his backpack. Mickey was leaving to go back to his house, before starting his job the day afterwards. However, Ian was more concerned about the date of Terry’s return from jail looming over them. Ian had talked to Mickey and Mickey thought it was best that he stayed at the Milkovich house with Mandy and the kid while shooting down the opportunity of staying with Ian and Scott, by saying that it was ‘just a week’ and that they were ‘gonna move anyways’.

“It’s just a week, man, I’ll be fine,” the dark-haired man reassured him while walking around to grab his clothes strewn all around the room. “I’ve dealt with him for over twenty fucking years, I can handle a week. I’ll be at work for most of the day.”

“What if he goes there?”

“He’ll be passed out in, like, ten minutes,” his boyfriend argued. He looked up from his clothes to see a very distressed redhead, and padded to the taller man, giving Ian a chaste kiss on the lips. “We’ll be okay. There’s no need to stress the fuck out of this.” He walked past Ian to grab a shirt before shoving it in his bag. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah,” Ian confirmed.

“Still got about half an hour before I gotta go,” Mickey grinned and licked the corner of his mouth. “How about we kill some time?”

Ian grinned. “You sure you have the energy for another fuck?”

“Of course I do,” Mickey answered. “You sure you have the energy to go again, Firecrotch? Or are you tired already?”

Ian smirked. “I can fuck for hours, Milkovich.” He slid his shirt off of him before carelessly throwing it on the floor, his lips met with another pair, soft and hungry, hotly licking into his mouth. Everything disappeared from his mind momentarily as he only focused on the man in front of him.

Ian didn’t notice how quickly their clothes were disregarded and how quickly the both of them were on the bed; he just remembered being on the bed, naked while kissing Mickey’s neck. The soft smack of lips against skin filled the room, as Ian’s fingers fumbled for the packet of lube. “It’s on your right, genius,” Ian could hear Mickey say, and he moved his hands to his right. Sure enough, his fingers closed around a packet of lube and he peeled his lips off of Mickey’s to open the packet. He slicked on the slimy substance on his fingers, letting it warm up while Mickey turned on his hands and knees, facing the head of the board. Ian placed himself behind the dark-haired man and slowly inserted his fingers inside.

Mickey hissed in pain and pleasure and bit his lip to prevent any escape of sounds that might seem embarrassing. “Hurry, man, I ain’t got much time,” Mickey reminded the redhead. “Make me feel fucking good. Distract me.”

Distract me. The pure honesty in those two words surprised Ian. He had gotten so wrapped up in how he felt with Terry coming back, that he blindly believed Mickey when he said he’s not bothered by Terry coming back. The emotional turmoil of counting down the days where your abusive father comes back, and you have to pretend to fit a mold that he made for you, was much harder than Ian could imagine.

Ian inched himself in, feeling the tightness of his boyfriend around his aroused cock. The slap of skin against skin and grunts filled the otherwise quiet room, the redhead’s hips moving quickly. Ian reached over and pulled Mickey up so Mickey’s back was pressed against Ian’s chest. His hand circled Mickey’s throat, squeezing the side of his boyfriend’s neck. Mickey’s lips were parted, eyes closed, face screwed in pleasure as the redhead jackhammered into him.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Ian murmured into his boyfriend’s ear. “Makes me feel so fucking good.” The tip of Ian’s cock rubbed against Mickey’s prostate. The tightening in Ian’s balls signaled that he was close to climaxing as his fingers tightened around Mickey’s throat.

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” his boyfriend announced, and Ian spilt inside Mickey, the latter following not too far behind. Both men were panting messes by the time the redhead pulled out of Mickey, the dark-haired man cleaning his mess. “I’m gonna see you tomorrow at the Alibi, right?” Mickey questioned as he slipped on his clothes.

“You are,” Ian confirmed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Look at you, with a legal job and shit.” His statement earned him a middle finger from the older man, as Mickey hitched his backpack on his shoulders. “You’re gonna text me as soon as you get home?”

“Will me texting you more calm your nerves?” his boyfriend questioned.

“Yes.”

He gnawed on the inside of his cheek before nodding. “Okay. I’ll be more active.”

“Thank you,” Ian sighed. “You’re gonna be okay with Terry and—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mickey interrupted before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of Ian’s head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The redhead watched Mickey turn on his heels and watch his long strides as he walked to the door. “I better not see you stressed out tomorrow!”

Ian smiled, his whole body still tingling from the ghost of Mickey’s touch still haunting him. “I won’t,” he said to no one in particular.

However, not stressing is easier said than done.

 

****************

Ian hadn’t been to the Alibi in years; the last time he had gone was when he wanted to stay out but didn’t exactly know where to spend his time. Sure, a bar wasn’t the best place to hang out, but it was better than nowhere. Sometimes he’d slink off when he was sure no one noticed him, and walk to the bar.

He never had good memories with anyone at the bar—usually he’d stay in the corner and peer at the people pissing their lives away, and vowed never to be like them. Besides, he was going to be a soldier, and soldiers couldn’t be alcoholics for health reasons.

However, he’s never had the chance to be an actual soldier.

His eyes zeroed in on the dark-haired man behind the counter, scrubbing off substances with a white cloth. The lights were dimmer than he remembered, and everything was smaller and older to him. The only thing that hasn’t changed was the pungent smell of alcohol and sweat.

“Hey,” Ian greeted as he seated himself on a stool.

Mickey looked up at the redhead. “Hey. Got Coke all ready for you.”

“Mm,” Ian started, “what kind?”

“The white powder kind.” Mickey slid the tall glass of Coke, the dark substance sloshing in the mug.

“My favourite,” Ian joked before tilting the mug to drink the sweet content inside. “It’s been years since I’ve come back here,” he stated as he placed the mug down.

“You’ve actually spent time in here?”

“I have,” Ian nodded. “When I was, like, twelve.”

“I could imagine tiny ass Ian Gallagher stealing half empty cups of alcohol from passed out alcoholics to get fucking wasted,” Mickey teased.

“I actually didn’t come here to get wasted,” the redhead corrected his boyfriend, “I was fucking twelve.”

“I started drinking when I was ten, man, you’re a fucking amateur.”

“When do you get off?” the redhead questioned.

“I just started my shift, so in about a couple hours,” his boyfriend answered. The click clack of high heels distracted the duo as they glanced at the petite woman walking over to Mickey.

“You’re gonna be okay?” V questioned.

“I’ll be fine,” Mickey reassured her, “I’m not a fucking idiot.”

V opened her mouth, decided against it, and then fixed her hair before her dark brown eyes landed on the redhead. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hi,” Ian smiled.

“How are things?” she sounded way too polite—unlike V. The fake sweetness was a sticky layer over Ian, and Ian hated how thick and uncomfortable it was. He just wanted to get it off of him.

“Things are okay,” the redhead replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and exchanging a look with his boyfriend.

“Sounds great,” she nods, “I have to, uh.. go. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” Ian nodded and stayed silent until he was positive she was out of earshot. “How much do you wanna bet that she knows about me and Mandy?”

“Uh, almost all of my paycheck that I’m gonna get,” Mickey answered. “Fuck, that was fucking awkward.”

“Pretty much everyone knows about your marriage with your brother’s ex,” Tommy interjected. “Lip’s talkative and trusting when he’s drunk.”

“Hey, how about you focus on getting drunk yourself and leave Red alone?” Mickey shot back at the middle aged man.

“I’m just sayin’,” Tommy raised his hands defensively.

Mickey opened his mouth to hit Tommy with another venomous sentence before Ian placed his hand on the dark-haired man’s arm. “You mean.. everyone who’s been here knows?”

“Not really, him and Ruby Rose—” Tommy jerked his finger to Mickey—“would argue about it and it’d get fucking loud and everyone would tune in. But it’s kind of fucking shitty that you did that to Lip.”

“No one fucking asked for your two cents,” Mickey snapped back, eyebrows furrowed in frustration at the older man.

Telling V and their family what happened was okay; he understood that to some extent. However, it was out of line to take his frustration of Ian marrying Mandy out on Mickey; it wasn’t like Mickey had a choice. Mickey was forced into a situation, pushed into an issue without his consent. If Lip had a fucking problem, he could talk to Ian without shunning him.

“I gotta do something important,” Ian stated, standing up and walking briskly out the door of the dingy bar, before Mickey could even open his mouth to object.


	5. Chapter 5

Another day had gone by, quickly. Another day closer to Terry coming back, and Mickey was nervous.

Sleep had never come easy to Mickey, but it was harder to let himself slip into unconsciousness knowing that it was one day closer to seeing Terry in person again. He didn’t like fear; he hated how it crawled up your throat and spilled out like vomit for everyone to see. He hated how weak it made people look, and he hated how he had to stifle it whenever the mere thought of Terry crossed his mind.

Sucking on another cigarette, he gazed at his sleeping boyfriend next to him. Ian looked peaceful, as if problems didn’t exist and he was still happy. Mickey knew the redhead felt lonely and isolated from his own family; he just was incredibly good at hiding it. And now he’s in the middle of the Milkovich family, worrying about things he shouldn’t have to worry about.

Again, he hid his emotions pretty well.

Mickey reached out and gently rested his hand on the red tresses, stroking the hair. He wasn’t familiar with affection that was more than just a hug.

_I love you._

He was scared that Terry might hurt the redhead if he does find out. Terry could do whatever he wants to Mickey—kill him, or worse; marry him off to someone else. But he doesn’t want Terry to touch a hair on Ian’s head.

_I hope you know that._

The sun fell and rose while Mickey was awake, anxiety forcing Mickey’s eyes to stay open. He loved how quiet it was during the night while everyone slept; as if everything was on pause while everyone escaped. Night was quiet.

“Did you even get sleep last night?” Ian asked once he had woken up the next day.

“Yeah, I got sleep,” the dark-haired man lied. He didn’t want Ian to be worried about him pulling an all-nighter. His boyfriend was already really worried as it is; Mickey didn’t want him to be even more stress. “You got work tonight?”

“Today’s my day off,” Ian answered, “but they might call me in. When does your shift start?”

“Seven,” Mickey responded. “You gonna visit me today? I’ll make sure to duct tape their mouths so they can’t talk shit anymore like last time.”

“I don’t think that’s allowed,” Ian smirked.

“It’s allowed if Kev and V won’t find out about it.”

“Nah, that’s fine,” the redhead shook his head, “I’m not some sensitive bitch who let words get to me.”

“Doesn’t make you sensitive to react negatively to words, Gallagher,” Mickey argued. “If someone called me a faggot I’d probably kick their fucking face in.” Ian grinned and swung his legs to the edge of the bed.

“You want coffee?” his boyfriend questioned.

“Of course I do,” Mickey answered, and watched his boyfriend walk to the door of Mickey’s room. “Don’t forget to take your meds.” Ian didn’t react in any way to his words; only made a beeline to the bathroom. Mickey swallowed the three words he’d been itching to say and it burned a hole in his stomach.

He walked to the small kitchen, eyes on Mandy’s tired face as she dragged her feet to the kitchen, her child in her arms. “Do me a favour and get Gabe into his high chair while I make breakfast?” she passed the little boy to Mickey before Mickey could say no.

“I was gonna say no.”

“I wasn’t asking you, I was telling you what to do,” Mandy snapped, “make yourself fucking useful.” Mickey flipped his little sister off before pulling out Gabe’s high chair. The little boy had rest his head on Mickey’s broad shoulder, his soft sighs against Mickey’s neck indicated that he’d fallen back asleep.

“Your accident’s asleep again,” the dark-haired man answered.

“Don’t call him that.”

“Your _accident’s_ asleep again.” Mandy glared at him. _If looks could kill, my brain would be splattered on the fucking tiles._ Ian emerged out of the bathroom, walking to the kitchen.

“I’ll take him,” Ian offered, taking Gabe from Mickey’s arms, and Mickey walked to the small bathroom and closed the door.

One morning closer to Terry coming back, and the tension between both Mickey and Mandy were high. Neither of them wanted Terry to come back, but it wasn’t anything Mickey could do.

He was so hopeful on not having to see Terry again, to live out the rest of his days without his father tainting him. That’s what he gets for getting his hopes up.

Whenever his hopes are too damn high, reality pulled it back down to the ground. Things almost never go his way anyways, so he didn’t know why he was so upset about Terry coming back.

Mickey washed his face and brushed his teeth. It was morning, the sun was out. He was only allowed to let his fears and sadness when it was dark.

He was one day closer to seeing Terry again, and he was petrified.

 

****************

Mandy stormed into the dingy bar, sitting down on the stool in front of her brother. Her sapphire eyes looked up to meet his own, and she opened her mouth. “Beer. Please.”

Mickey complied, pouring a drink. “I thought Ian was coming over.”

“I don’t know if he is,” she sighed, and paused. “I don’t think I can stay at the house when Terry comes.”

“You’re gonna be out for most of the day,” Mickey responded, “I don’t understand how him staying at home will fucking affect you in any way.”

“I don’t want Gabe with him,” she answered, “I don’t.. fucking know what he might do to Gabe and it’s freaking me the fuck out. Maybe I should move in with Ian, stay there for a week. For Gabe’s sake.”

Mickey slid the beer to her. “He knows.”

She took a sip, her face scrunched up in disgust. “What?”

“That you got knocked up,” Mickey responded, “you do know that. Right?”

“So what if he knows?” Mandy questioned. “I’m not trying to hide that I have a fucking kid, I just want Terry _far_ away from him. I don’t want Terry fuck him up like he fucked us up.” She paused and watched her older brother scrub at a dirty spot on the counter. “Are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“Don’t make me spell it out, dumbass,” she sighed.

“I don’t wanna fucking die,” Mickey argued. “Besides, I’m not even..” _gay._ But was he gay? He was in love with a man. He didn’t know who he is anymore; maybe he never knew and just pretended to know.

“You are,” Mandy argued.

“My fucking sexuality is none of your concern,” Mickey snapped at his little sister, his voice low in fear that the nosey ass drunk men next to them might hear them. “Mind your fucking business. You got enough on your plate anyway.”

“It _is_ my business when you’re with my fucking best friend,” she argued. “Sort your shit out, Mickey.”

“How about you sort your shit out first?” Mickey spat out. “I’m trying to fucking work, and it’d be great if you didn’t make this fucking shift horrible. Drink your beer and then leave.”

She glowered at her older brother before sipping on her beer. “I didn’t pay for the beer.”

“I got it covered,” Mickey answered, irritation still nipping at his sides.

“I don’t want to fucking mooch off of you.”

“I said I got it fucking covered,” Mickey snapped. Silence stretched the duo, Mickey occasionally pouring more drinks to the drunk men, and Mandy slowly sipping her beer.

When Mandy had left, Mickey noticed a couple of bills next to her drink. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered before grabbing the bills and the mug. The sun had gone back to sleep by the time Mickey was almost done with his shift. Darkness was something Mickey dreaded, his anxiety peaking and his mood darkening. Ian had arrived and tried to cheer Mickey up, but the scowl fixated on Mickey’s face wouldn’t budge.

One night closer to Terry coming back, and all Mickey wanted to do is close his eyes and sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the really long break before updating. writer's block sucks. plus i've gotten busier. i hope y'all are doing well.
> 
> i have a LOT of ideas for this sequel, and i can't wait to get as much of it out! this is just the tip of the iceberg, guys. there's more to come. anyway, fingers crossed that i'll be able to update soon.
> 
> \- Gaylagher


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